on all that is intangible

Jan 15, 2025

Hi there, it’s been a bit—how have you been doing?

It’s been more than eight months since I last wrote about starting a company in Tokyo—a city I now live in for half of the year (with the other half in San Francisco).  I tried to write an update in August when I was visiting Tokyo to look for a space (I got two paragraphs in, lol), and again in October when I returned to the city to settle in (I wrote 80% of an update that time, lolol) but I struggled to conclude those posts.

And now I realize that I couldn’t write a conclusion because the journey hadn’t yet reached one.

I’ve since had a whole holiday season to journal and reflect, and I finally feel settled enough to recount it all. So here’s my third (and actually successful) post about where I’ve been.

When I started my company in Tokyo, I wrote down three main goals:

• Find a gallery-like space to design shows and document my work.
• Get my hands on materials and electronics to experiment and prototype really quickly (an idea fueled by Japan’s strong maker culture).
• Integrate into the local community, to start collaborating with artists, fabricators, and designers, and eventually even invite artist friends over to put on shows together.

In August, I signed a two-year lease for an adorable apartment in a very trendy Tokyo neighborhood (honestly a little too trendy for my nerdy self, haha). I landed a four-month contract for the cutest 8m²/86ft² atelier (that’s the word they use in Japanese, and I like it because it sounds so much more fashionable than “art studio”). And, I even joined a coworking space—all within two weeks of my arrival.  It was such a beautiful experience because it made me realize that, though I’d formally started this journey in December 2023, I had been subconsciously researching and preparing for the move for the past decade, which allowed everything to fall into place quickly.

Photos from August: the atelier on move-in date (top left), celebration cake when I finally finished furnishing it (+ the sweetest golden hour glow, top right), collecting visual inspirations (bottom left), and experimenting with watercolor ink (bottom right).

I left Tokyo at the end of August feeling so proud of myself, and energized by all the progress I was already making towards that first goal.

I got back to Tokyo in October, brimming with anticipation for all the art I was going to make in my atelier.  But turns out, I grossly underestimated how long setting up in a brand new (very bureaucratic) country would take. I spent my first month registering myself (because I’m now on a work visa instead of a tourist visa!) and our new apartment with the ward office. And opening a bank account. And figuring out how to pay for utilities. And getting a Japanese phone number. And furnishing a very new, very empty apartment…

I now have even more respect for my parents that did this three (!!) times in their lives, all in countries where they barely spoke the language!

By the time everything was set up and starting to feel like home, it was already time to go back to SF.  I felt so frustrated with myself that I hadn’t spent more time in the atelier—after all, I had set aside those months in Tokyo to make art (insert “you had one job” meme).

But after these weeks of reflection, I can recognize that, even if I had made it to the atelier more often, I’d have been so distracted by all the logistics of setting up a life in Japan, of balancing a personal art practice with client work, that I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere creatively.  Because making art, to me, has always been a treat, a quiet time to reflect, a means to express what I can’t put into words.  And for that, I need a brain that’s not buzzing with a thousand to-dos and a body that’s not hyped up on adrenaline from running errands around a mega-city.

I’ve also come to recognize that while it’s true my four-month atelier contract ended with “nothing to show for it,” the reality is that I really relished the time I did spend in the atelier.  As I got to know the oil painters, Nihonga artists, and fashion designers in adjacent atelier spaces, I loved hearing about their experiments, their processes, the stories behind their art. So while I didn’t leave the atelier with any physical work, I did come away with friendships that I’m really excited to continue nurturing.

We had a housewarming in November, and I finally fulfilled my dream of curating a Japanese Costco spread (left). I also feel really weird about posting photos of people without their permission, so here are instead photos of the housewarming (food) in full force, and the gifts we received and polaroids from the night (middle). My atelier friends threw me a cute moving out party so I brought the wine from our housewarming (and then we proceeded to drink from noon to 4pm on a Tuesday. It was a great time 😂.)

And speaking of friendships!  I had originally planned on putting together a mini art show in my atelier for the end of November, but once I realized how much of a toll all of the setup was taking on me, I decided to switch it to a housewarming instead.  Which turned out to be the best decision, because so many friends showed up to celebrate: friends from college, friends I had made in my decade of visiting Tokyo, new friends from the atelier and coworking space (which has been the most welcoming group of local and expat creatives).

It was the sweetest promise of a life in Tokyo to come.

—

Last April I wrote:

So it fills me with indescribable joy and anticipation (and tbh also a bit of trepidation) that I get to start this next step? part? chapter?? of my art in the country I spent the majority of my childhood in—watching Ghibli films and reading manga and running through rice fields, that I’ve visited every year for the past decade in search of the childhood I left behind, that I’ve yearned to live in because I have the deepest gut feeling I might find a part of myself still there.

Perhaps the biggest learning from my months in Tokyo is that I’m starting to find the threads of what I’ve been searching for, the answers to the questions of “where is home” and my places of belonging. I had expected to find those answers through my art. But instead, I’m finding them through the people I’m meeting, the friendships I’m cultivating.  Because as it turns out, a lot of the expats in Tokyo are Asian diaspora, whose parents immigrated to a Western country, and they, like me, are trying to puzzle through their roots and their identities.

And as I wrap up this post, I realize that a feeling of contentment has eclipsed the frustration I have felt for months. I realize that I’ve accomplished (or am in the middle of accomplishing) all the goals I had originally set out to do. I had fixated so hard on finishing a new art piece that it took until I slowed down to see what I’ve achieved: All that time when I was running around the city, I was actually scouting out art stores, gallery shows, and making friends with other artists.

So here’s a note to self in the New Year: Value the intangible just as much as the tangible, and be patient.  It will always lead me somewhere.

♥️,

Shirley

—

P.S.  In my April 2024 post, I hinted at another Big Life Thing.

a friend messaged me right after asking if I was having a baby 😂 can you imagine the superhuman I’d be to handle Tokyo, moving from New York back to San Francisco _and_ a new baby??

In May—several months before the move—I flew to Tokyo for a trip that was completely unrelated to house hunting or working or art: my husband and I’s wedding! We were originally supposed to have it in Tokyo in 2020, but you can guess what happened, haha! And with Japan’s borders closed for three years, we nearly gave up on the idea. But so many of our friends and family encouraged us to have the wedding still, and I’m so glad we did.

I’ve written a whole sappy post about it over on Instagram if you’re interested, but here are some highlights: